


To Give Suffering a Location

by Ysabetwordsmith



Series: Polychrome Heroics [6]
Category: Polychrome Heroics
Genre: Ambivalence, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, College, Concern, Consent, Crying, Disconnection, Dysfunctional Family, Feelings, First Aid, Friendship, Gen, Gentleness, Grounding, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, No Sex, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-sexual Consent, Pain, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Police, Poverty, Roughhousing, Scars, Self-Harm, Skateboarding, Sports, Stress, Trust, Trust Issues, overload, overwhelm, parks, stigma - Freeform, trustbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysabetwordsmith/pseuds/Ysabetwordsmith
Summary: A wipeout on a skateboard ramp leads to an intimate discussion of trauma between Hefty and a college student.This poem contains intense and controversial topics.   Warnings are in the tags.  If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
Relationships: Hefty & Stefan Edgerly
Series: Polychrome Heroics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/176663
Kudos: 10
Collections: August Intimacy - September Stragglers 2020





	To Give Suffering a Location

**Author's Note:**

> This poem is spillover from the August 4, 2020 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired and sponsored by Soupshue. It also fills the "lasting scars from old traumas" square in [my 8-1-20 card](https://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/12611270.html) for the Five Moment of Intimacy Bingo fest. This poem belongs to the [Shiv](http://penultimateproductions.weebly.com/shiv.html) thread of the [Polychrome Heroics](http://penultimateproductions.weebly.com/polychrome-heroics.html) series.

**[Sunday, August 30, 2015]**

Despite the beautiful late-summer day,  
the Seymour Smith Skatepark was   
all but deserted, most people having   
gone to The Bay in Lincoln for  
the tournament there.

With new college classes  
to handle, Stefan had stayed  
behind, but allowed himself  
a few hours at the park so  
he could clear his head.

Stefan was working the vert  
when he felt everything go wrong.

His fingertips grazed the skateboard  
but missed the grip, knocking it  
away from him as he came down.

He bounced off the rim of the vert  
and then tumbled down the slope.

Stefan stared up at the blue sky,   
enjoying a few moments completely  
clear of anything like thought.

Then the pain registered.  
Groaning, he sat up.

Well ... _fuck_.

He had ripped   
both knees out of   
his blue jeans and   
the road rash was awful.

He'd thrown a sweatshirt  
over his T-shirt to protect  
his arms, but the left sleeve  
had ridden up where he hit  
the rim, leaving a long scrape.

He hadn't hit his head, though,  
and that was the important part.

The sweatshirt wasn't torn,  
so that was salvageable if he   
could get all the blood out.

The jeans were a wreck.  
That was just fucking great.

He only had five pairs,   
one of the others already  
had patched knees, and he  
couldn't wear those to class  
or the teachers scowled at him.

So he was down to three that  
were presentable on campus.

Stefan heard a muffled thud.

Suddenly a vast shadow fell   
over him, making him cringe  
as he raised his good arm in   
hope of protecting his head.

"Don't move." The voice was   
deep but not angry. "You could   
make your injuries worse."

Stefan peeked out from  
behind his arm, blinking  
against the bright sunlight.

Yep. The guy was still huge,  
and looming right over him.

This was going to suck   
so much more than   
just hitting the rim.

"You're not wearing  
any protective gear,"  
the stranger said as   
he crouched down.

"Long sleeves and  
long pants in this heat,"  
Stefan protested.

The man sighed.  
"I meant, you're not  
wearing a helmet or  
guards," he pointed out.

"They just make  
my head bigger and  
then I hit it more often,"  
Stefan said. "I know  
how to fall right."

Hadn't the big lug  
seen him fend off  
the rim by hand?

"Okay. Can you move  
all your hands and   
feet?" the man said.

Stefan wiggled everything.  
Maybe if he minded, the guy  
would give up and let him go  
without getting _too_ rough.

"That's good," said the man.  
"You want to give me a name  
so I don't have call you Hey You?"

Not really, no, but he didn't want  
to start a fight over it either.

"Stefan," he said grudgingly,  
wishing the guy would go away.

"Hi, Stefan, I'm Hefty," he said.   
"I have first aid training." 

Something clanged.

Oh, he had pulled  
the first aid kit down  
from its nearby post.

"I was jogging around  
the park when I saw you  
wipe out," Hefty said.  
"Will you let me help?"

"I guess," Stefan muttered.  
It was bad enough to crash  
without someone making  
such a big fuss about it.

Injuries were part of the game.

He pushed that thought down  
as quick as he could, hoping  
that Hefty wouldn't notice it.

"Did you hit your head?"  
Hefty asked, reaching out  
a big hand to ruffle his hair.

Stefan jerked away. "No.  
I told you, I know how to fall."

At least when he wasn't wearing  
an extra ten pounds of crap that  
made it harder to see and move.

He had pushed off the rim and  
rolled to the bottom, with nothing  
worse than a bunch of road rash.

"I'd really appreciate it if you let me  
check for bumps," Hefty coaxed.

"Ffffffine," Stefan grumbled.

The guy was a fucking bulldog,  
he just would not let it go.

His hands were gentle,  
though, carding through  
the mop of Stefan's hair.

Stefan shivered anyway.  
He just didn't feel safe  
with someone that big  
getting this close to him.

Then he caught a glimpse   
of the gray T-shirt that read,  
 _Property of Omaha Police Dept_.

Stefan cringed, his shoulders  
hunching in attempt to hide.

It never really helped, but  
he couldn't stop doing it.

"You're really scared of me,  
aren't you," Hefty said softly.  
"I'm sorry, I can't make myself  
smaller. I know what I look like."

"It's fine," Stefan said quickly,  
though of course it wasn't.

"Have you ever gone to  
the zoo?" Hefty asked  
out of the clear blue sky.

"Well, yeah," Stefan said.  
"School trips and stuff."

"Do you like elephants?"  
Hefty asked. "Or do  
they scare you too?"

"I like them," Stefan said.  
"They're big, but they're  
graceful in a way. They  
move exactly how they   
want to. I feed them, and  
their trunks go like --" He  
made a pinching gesture.

Hefty smiled. "Exactly,"  
he said. "Gentleness   
is controlled strength."

"Huh?" Stefan said,  
frowning. "What's that  
got to do with elephants?"

"The same trunk can crush  
a tiger, tear down a tree --   
or pick up a peanut without  
cracking the shell," Hefty said.  
"It's all about understanding  
the power you have and how  
to use the right amount of it."

"Oh," Stefan said. He hadn't  
really thought about that   
before, but it made sense. 

The elephants had been huge   
but not scary, because he could   
see how carefully they moved.

He snuck a sidelong glance  
at Hefty crouched beside him.

Not as big as an elephant, and ...  
maybe not as much of a threat  
as Stefan had been thinking.

A little of the tension leaked out.

"Any idea what went wrong  
up there?" Hefty asked.

Stefan sighed. "I missed  
the grab coming down and  
lost my board," he said.  
"In retrospect, I probably  
should not have tried   
that move on this vert --  
I didn't have enough air."

"Then you know not to make  
the same mistake again,"  
Hefty said. "I'll clean up  
the scrapes next, if  
that's okay with you."

Stefan listened to  
the steady _shuck-a-ruck_  
of someone skating   
in another bowl.

He could clean up  
his own knees easily,  
but the forearm scrape  
would be a real nuisance  
to treat with only one hand.

Behind them, the skateboard  
chuttered up over the edge and   
then swished back down again.

"Okay, I guess," Stefan said.

"Do you want numbing antiseptic  
or not numbing?" Hefty said.

Stefan blinked at him.  
Most people didn't give him  
a choice, they just assumed he   
wanted it numb because that's  
what everyone else picked.

"Not numbing," he said quickly.  
"I don't like how it feels, it's  
too hard to find my body."

"Ah," Hefty said, nodding  
as it if made perfect sense  
to him. "Brace yourself."

The stream of liquid felt  
cold and then burning.

It washed away all thought,  
leaving him clean and new,  
without worry or care.

When Stefan came out of  
the bright haze, Hefty was  
carefully picking out bits of grit   
that hadn't been washed away   
by the flood of antiseptic.

He was actually doing  
a thorough job of it, too,  
which was better than  
Stefan had expected.

Outside of skateboarders  
and dirtbikers, people  
tended to be squeamish.

"Fortunately there are plenty  
of hydrocolloid bandages  
in here," Hefty said. "Unless  
you'd prefer nonstick gauze?"

Stefan shook his head.  
"Hydro's better," he said.

Hefty measured one against  
the long scrape, hummed,  
and then trimmed a notch   
at one end to fit it around  
the knob of Stefan's elbow.

"Thanks," said Stefan.  
"That's an improvement."

"Good," Hefty said, carefully  
working the sleeve back down  
to provide extra protection.  
"We'll do the knees next."

This time Hefty started by  
stuffing gauze around the edges,  
between skin and denim, so   
the excess liquid wouldn't   
run down Stefan's legs.

It was still brightly burning,  
and the sensation gave Stefan   
a few precious moments of respite.

He was just starting to come out  
of the welcome fog when Hefty said,  
"You have quite a lot of scars."

"Sports," Stefan said instantly,  
hoping to throw him off the trail.

"Those can get adventurous,"  
Hefty said. "What do you play?"

"Skateboarding, lacrosse,  
all kinds of stuff," Stefan said.

He played stickball, too, when he   
could hook up with the city Indians,  
the old-fashioned style without  
a bunch of gear or too many rules,  
but Hefty didn't need to know that.

Stefan had met Logan and Nathan first,  
in a pickup game, and they had   
introduced him to the others.

Lacrosse was okay, but  
stickball was _way_ more fun.

Hefty was just as careful  
about picking the grit out of  
Stefan's knees as his elbow.

"Not as deep as they could be,"  
Hefty observed as he smoothed  
a bandage over the right knee.

"Mostly I rolled," Stefan said.  
"It's less bad that way."

"True," Hefty said as he  
moved on to the left knee.  
"It's good that you know how  
to fall if you're practicing  
rough-and-tumble sports."

That wasn't where Stefan  
had learned to protect his body.  
but he wasn't about to admit it.

The left knee was messier,  
having landed first, but Hefty  
got it cleaned and covered.

"You want some cold packs  
for the bruises?" Hefty asked.  
"There are snappers in the kit."

"Yes, please," Stefan said,  
holding out a hand for them.

He could feel where he'd landed.  
He hadn't been at the right angle  
to slide down the ramp on his knees,   
so instead he had just rolled with it   
to spread the impact instead of trying  
to break the fall with his hands.

Hefty snapped the packets,  
shaking to activate them, then  
passed them to Stefan as soon  
as they started to get cold.

"Thanks," Stefan said,  
putting them over the worst  
of the bruises he could feel. He'd   
either have to hold them, or ...  
"Do you have any tape?"

"Here," Hefty said as he  
took out the bandage tape.  
"Do you want me to tear off  
strips for you to use, or shall I  
just tape those on for you?"

Stefan looked down at   
the blue line where he'd  
bonked his ribs on the rim  
a little bit before sliding.

It'd be a bitch trying   
to hold the cold pack  
with one hand while  
taping it with the other.

"Go ahead," he said as he   
pressed the pack in place.

Hefty was gentle with the tape,   
smoothing each strip into place   
without hurting or even tickling.

"I don't suppose you'd let me  
drive you to a clinic?" Hefty said  
as he finished the last of the tape.

Stefan shook his head. "I'm fine."  
He tugged his shirts back down.

"Not all injuries are obvious,"  
Hefty warned. "What about  
concussion, cracked bones,   
compartment injury -- do you  
know how to recognize those?"

"Well, yeah," Stefan said.   
"Been there, done that, all three."  
He hiked up the left leg of his jeans  
to show the tidy little scar where   
the doctors had to cut in to release  
the pressure and patch up what  
got ripped inside. "That came  
from the compartment injury."

"Okay, I'll concede that you have   
some experience," Hefty said.  
"Do you have somewhere to go  
if you start feeling worse?"

"Yeah, CHI Health," said Stefan.  
"For a college clinic they're okay,   
but I can't afford to get pulled out of   
class this early. I'd never catch up,   
that's -- I can't. I just _can't."_

Hefty sighed. "I'm not happy  
about that, but you're an adult,  
so it's your choice," he said.  
"Take care of the scrapes --  
you don't need any more scars."

"Sports," Stefan squeaked.  
"I'm careful, it just happens."

He was good at what he did,  
and he didn't get injured _too_ often,  
just enough to let off the pressure.

It was less bad than what happened  
if he _didn't_ find a way to let it off.

"What about these?" Hefty asked,  
tracing the lines on Stefan's chin  
that left thin streaks in the scruff  
of beard that he tried to grow.

The sliding glass door -- he'd   
tried to forget about that.

"Accident," Stefan said.  
"I was running in the house."

He had been, but that wasn't  
how he'd slammed into the door.

His father had grabbed him and  
swung him around, hard enough  
to crack the glass, hard enough to cut.

How was Hefty even _finding_ them?  
Most of Stefan's scars were old and pale,   
no more than ghosts against his fair skin.

Then to his horror, Hefty hooked a fingertip  
in the cuff of his left sleeve, tugging up  
just enough to show four parallel lines   
of pink. "And here?" he said softly.

Stefan cringed. "Am I in trouble?"

"Not with me," Hefty assured him.  
"I'm concerned about the rest of  
your life, though. Are you having  
trouble at home? At college?"

"College is good," Stefan said.  
"It's hard, but it's good. I um,  
I'm studying Exercise Science.  
Thought I could maybe get a job  
in sports, or doing park programs."

"That's a good plan," Hefty said.  
"It's important for you to consider  
your future and think ahead."

Important, but terrifying.

Stefan looped his arms  
around his shins, swaying  
a little back and forth, but he   
stopped short of resting his chin   
on top of his knees like usual.

"You must be in a lot  
of pain," Hefty said.

Stefan jerked up,  
staring at Hefty.  
"I'm fine," he said.

"You've ripped the skin  
off both knees as well as  
one forearm. That can't   
be pleasant," Hefty said. 

Stefan shrugged. "I've had  
worse," he said. He really had.

Hefty handed Stefan a packet   
of ibuprofen and a water bottle.  
"Here," he said. "This will reduce  
swelling, and it takes the edge  
off of emotional pain too."

Stefan took the pills, because  
he wasn't stupid and really didn't  
want to wind up at CHI Health  
with his knees swollen up.

"I'm not a headcase,"  
he muttered, looking away.

"I never said you were,"  
Hefty replied. "I just think  
something's not quite right in   
your life, and that worries me."

Stefan snuck a glance at him.  
"What makes you say that?"

"Most people act relieved   
when pain stops, not when  
it _starts,"_ Hefty observed.

"It's a distraction," Stefan said.  
"Like for a few seconds, that's   
all I'm aware of. It's not weird."

"Mmm," Hefty said thoughtfully.  
"Pain sustained by the mind   
needs the body mainly in order   
to give suffering a location."

"That's ... yeah," Stefan admitted.  
"If I can keep it to sports, then it  
kind of stays put better. I don't  
have to think about it all the time.  
Coming here is better than  
letting it spill everywhere."

"Understandable," Hefty said.  
Plastic rustled as he packed up  
the first aid kit. "Come with me?"

When Hefty stood up, he towered  
over Stefan again. It was scary ...  
but not as much as before.

"Come where?" Stefan said,  
eyeing the big hand that  
Hefty held out to him.

"Up to the picnic table,"  
Hefty said, pointing to it.

The vert that Stefan had  
wrecked on was right at  
the open end of the bowl,  
so all they had to do   
was walk out of it.

The picnic table   
was up the slope   
and around the curve   
from where they were.

Stefan didn't really   
want to keep talking with   
someone who seemed   
to see right though his skin.

He didn't think that Hefty   
was going to let it go, though.

Well ... maybe it wouldn't be _awful_.

"If you insist," Stefan said as  
he accepted Hefty's hand.

The big man lifted him up  
as if he weighed nothing.

Stefan tapped his skateboard  
with his toe, popping it up to   
his hand so he didn't have  
to bend over and pick it up.

It had a new scratch, but  
that was just cosmetic.

Carefully Stefan tested  
his feet, but they seemed  
okay too. He just had  
interesting new bruises.

Then they got on the grass,  
and that was harder, because  
the surface was uneven.

"You can lean on me, if   
you like," Hefty said quietly  
as he returned the first aid kit  
to its post, flipping the switch so  
the park rangers would know  
that it needed service.

Stefan hesitated. He  
still didn't like getting   
within arm's reach   
of anyone that big.

Hefty was patient,  
though, not making  
any sudden moves   
or trying to grab him.

And the grass was rough.

Stefan drifted closer, and  
only when he tripped enough  
to clutch at Hefty's T-shirt did   
the larger man drape an arm   
around him for support.

After that, Stefan stopped  
trying to be macho about it  
and just clung to him, because  
his balance was shot to hell with   
bruised muscles starting to stiffen up.

Hefty steered their path around   
to where the picnic table stood   
beside the big double-pool.

"Take a seat," he invited.

Stefan still wasn't enthusiastic  
about this, but he'd agreed to it,  
so no chickening out now.

Best to get it over with, so  
he could go and study.

"So ... what did you intend  
to grill me about?" Stefan said,  
easing himself onto the bench.

Hefty grimaced. "This is not  
an interrogation," he said.

"Well then, what do you want   
to talk about?" Stefan said.

"Actually, I'm more interested  
in listening," Hefty said. "I'd  
like to hear about whatever   
has you stressed enough  
to skateboard until you   
yardsale down the slope ...  
among other things." 

He tapped Stefan's wrist  
above the hidden lines.

Stefan flinched. "Do I  
 _have to?"_ he whined.

"No, you're a grownup,"  
Hefty said. "You could tell me   
to buzz off, but I think that if you  
really wanted to be alone, you  
would have found a private place  
instead of coming out here."

That was ... not entirely wrong.  
Today the sunshine and fresh air  
felt good, but on the worst days  
Stefan just wanted to hide.

"Yeah, maybe," he said,   
looking down at the grass.

A few long tufts stirred   
in the breeze, missed   
by the lawnmower.

"I really don't want to get  
a call someday and find you   
splattered all over the pavement,"  
Hefty said solemnly. "Those  
are not good calls to get."

Stefan hadn't thought much  
about that before, but his class   
on Introduction to Athletic Training   
last year had gone on and on about  
injuries and how to prevent them.

This year, Physics for Kinesiology  
looked to have some similar content,  
only with a lot more math explaining  
exactly _how and why_ people crashed.

They were interesting classes,  
though, because they involved a lot   
of practical exercises so he could _feel_  
what the lessons actually meant.

Only now they made him think  
of how someone -- maybe Hefty --  
had to scrape up the mess when  
someone wrecked a car or a bike,  
or just their body on park equipment.

"That happens?" Stefan said, glancing up.  
"I thought you were a cop, not a paramedic."

"I am a cop," Hefty said. "I just happen  
to specialize in search-and-rescue,  
first aid, and safety instead of  
breaking down doors. Have  
you seen firefighter-paramedics?"

"Yeah, there's supposed to be one  
on every truck for when people  
get hurt in fires," Stefan said.

"Well, I'm kind of like that, only in   
the police department," Hefty said.  
"I see car and bike crashes all the time,  
sometimes sport accidents at parks.  
The drag racing sticks in mind."

Stefan winced. "I saw that in  
the papers," he said. "Totally  
 _not_ my idea of a good time."

"That's a relief," Hefty said.  
"You're more into contact sports?"

"Yeah, lacrosse is fun for that,"  
said Stefan. "I do other stuff, too --  
there are tennis classes, and dance,  
and some group exercise things."

"That can be a good way to burn off  
excess energy or wild emotions,"  
Hefty said. "Have you considered  
talking about it, though? Because   
roughhousing can't fix everything."

Stefan snorted. "You mean therapy?"  
he said, shaking his head. "Not my style."

"What don't you like about it?" Hefty said.  
"There are all kinds of therapy, after all."

"Therapy is about every kid's nightmare   
when people are telling you that you   
need to get help but all you really want   
is a hug," Stefan said. His voice started out  
brusque but then cracked on the last word.

Hefty simply lifted his arm in silent invitation.

Stefan stared at him for a long minute,  
then slowly crept into the embrace.

Hefty was so tall that Stefan  
fit underneath without having  
to lean over more than a little bit.

It was strangely comforting.  
Stefan couldn't remember feeling  
this comfortable with someone  
holding him, let along anyone  
as enormous as Hefty.

Stefan was learning,  
though, that Hefty was  
a lot gentler than he looked.

"You know, a lot of people aren't  
enthused about therapy," Hefty said.  
"If talking doesn't seem to make you  
feel any better, then consider this --  
sharing your problems can gain you  
a fresh perspective with new solutions.  
Does that sound more constructive?"

Stefan nodded. "Yeah, it does,"  
he said. "Times I've gone, they   
just told me I had to work it out   
for myself, but if _that's_ true, then  
what the fuck do I need _them_ for?"

"It sounds like you need someone  
who understands what kind of things  
you're struggling with, preferably one  
who's gone through it himself," Hefty said.

"Exactly," Stefan said. "I mean, I'm not  
opposed to good advice, but people don't ..."   
He shrugged. "They just don't _get it."_

"You sound like a tactile kind of guy,"  
Hefty observed. "Most people aren't,  
and that definitely does not help."

"Nailed it," Stefan said glumly.  
Then he brightened. "But college  
is _great_ for that. I get to take  
all these classes on kinesiology!  
This year I'm doing one on physics  
that has _skateboard_ exercises."

Hefty gave a warm chuckle.  
"That sounds right up your alley."

"Yeah, it is," Stefan said.  
"And those teachers, I can  
talk to them, and they get it."

"That's good," Hefty said. "Did   
you know there are experiential   
and expressive therapies, too?  
The sandplay thing is famous, but   
there's also dance, theatre, sports,  
and even exercise to consider."

"I didn't know that," Stefan said.  
"It sounds interesting, though.  
Maybe I can ask my teachers  
about it. This seems like it  
would go with my studies."

"Exercise Science, right?"  
Hefty said, nodding to him.

Stefan was amazed that  
he had remembered it.  
"Uh, yeah," he said.

"That should fit, because  
there are exercise programs  
designed for mental health,"  
Hefty said. "Your teachers  
should know how to explore it,  
or I could chip in what I know."

"You seem awful ... invested   
in this," Stefan said, giving   
Hefty a sideways glance.

"Ah well, when I was in   
high school, I had a bad habit   
of hitting things when I got upset,"   
Hefty confessed. "So you see ..."

He tilted his right hand toward Stefan  
to show scars scattered over the knuckles.

"For a variety of reasons, I found out  
that wasn't a good idea, so I learned  
other ways to deal with my feelings,"  
Hefty said. "That works better now."

"Huh," Stefan said. He'd never seen  
a grownup with marks like that before.

In fact, he'd never seen another man  
who'd done anything like what he had --  
at least, not anyone who a _dmitted_ it.

The health class stuff made it sound  
like something only girls ever did, and  
they mostly stuck to cutting instead of  
getting into fights or rough sports.

Maybe Stefan wasn't as alone  
as he had thought he was.

"So ... what do you do now?"  
Stefan asked, wondering   
whether any of it might be  
something _he_ could use too.

"The first step is just to feel  
what you feel," Hefty said.  
"That's harder than it sounds.  
After years of being taught that   
the way to deal with painful emotions   
is to get rid of them, it can take a lot of   
work to learn to sit with them instead."

Oh, great. It sounded really fucking hard  
already, and that was going to get _worse?_

Stefan shuddered. "Seems like torture."

"It can feel that way," Hefty agreed.  
"But then so can wiping out."

"You're not wrong there,"  
Stefan said ruefully. "But is  
your way really worth it?"

"I think so," Hefty said. "It's   
like ... people learn things by   
sleeping in the wilderness   
that those who only sleep   
in comfortable houses   
may never know."

Stefan thought about  
how he sometimes felt  
a wall between himself and   
the other college students   
with their candy-coated lives.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I get that."

"Of course, it's also important for me   
to control my temper," Hefty went on.   
"During my wild phase, I got into  
a lot of fights, and I hurt someone.  
Badly. So I decided that I needed  
to find some better options."

Stefan shivered but didn't  
pull away. "Shit," he said.

"So, is there anything that  
you'd like to get off your chest   
before it blows up in your face?"  
Hefty asked. "Sometimes,  
talking really can help, or  
at least give you new ideas."

Stefan had gotten dragged to   
a school counselor a few times,  
and once after a class assignment  
left him with raging nightmares, he   
had even tried the college clinic, but   
none of that did anything for him.

Then again, none of them had  
started out by scraping his ass off  
the pavement and offering him a hug.

"I um ... college is hard. It's good,  
but I have a lot of classes and  
the beginning of a semester  
is always crazy and stuff,"  
Stefan said hesitantly.

He expected to be told  
to organize his time and  
study instead of goofing off.

"Okay, you have a heavy load  
and your schedule is new,"  
Hefty said. "No wonder you  
feel a little overwhelmed."

Stefan heaved a huge sigh.  
"Yeah, that's it, that's it exactly,"  
he said. "I don't want to quit,  
but it's hard to relax, hard  
to get out of my head after  
spending all day in class."

"So you come out here, and  
get into your body," Hefty said.

"Yeah, skateboarding helps,"  
Stefan said. "Even when   
I fuck up, it's still ... mine,   
you know? The class stuff  
is still too new to feel like that."

"You're studying it, and you  
enjoy it, but it doesn't feel   
like a _part_ of you the way   
sports do," Hefty said.

"Right," Stefan said. "So  
there's this, like, pull, in  
all different directions."

"Is that what brought you  
out here today?" Hefty said.

Stefan flinched at the reminder.

Hefty didn't let go, but he  
stroked very gently up  
Stefan's back, ruffling  
his shirts up and then  
smoothing them down.

"Yes and no," Stefan said.  
"I had this one class on Friday,  
Foundations of Fitness & Wellness.  
The syllabus for the first few days  
is all about analyzing your past  
and present health. That's um ..."

Hefty waited for a minute,   
then guessed, "Uncomfortable?"

"Yeah," Stefan said, leaning  
into him for support. "Growing up,  
I used to hang out at the park   
as much as I possibly could,  
and later I did a lot of sports,  
just to stay out of the house.  
Home was really ... not good."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hefty said.  
"I'm glad you found a way to cope."

The memories popped up again,  
the ones roused by the class  
that he'd been trying to forget.

Stefan scratched at his wrist,  
fingers sneaking under the cuff  
to scrape at the fading pink lines.

"Not that way, please," Hefty said,  
gently tugging his fingers away  
from the soft skin of his wrist.  
"Can you tell me what upset you?"

The one time Stefan had dared  
to ask his father to play catch   
with him, his father had thrown   
the ball and blacked his eye with it.

He felt stupid and useless and  
utterly unwanted. He shouldn't  
be clinging to a stranger like this.

Hefty was big and warm, though,  
and it felt good to pretend that  
someone actually cared.

Stefan knew that he was  
broken beyond repair, but  
just for the moment, it  
didn't seem so awful.

He managed to choke out  
the story about the ball.

Hefty listened, and made  
encouraging noises, and  
passed him a packet of  
kleenex from somewhere.

Stefan hadn't even  
realized he was crying.

"It's stupid," he sniffled.  
"That was years ago."

"It still hurts, so that   
means it's not stupid,"  
Hefty said. "That's   
a horrible memory, so  
Of course you're upset."

"I didn't go out for, like,  
a week after that,"   
Stefan said. "But   
I got so antsy, I had  
to get back outside."

"I'm glad you kept  
going out," Hefty said.  
"Sunlight and activity  
both boost your mood."

"Yeah, I figured that out,"  
Stefan said. "It still sucked."

"Was that ... typical for  
your childhood?" Hefty said.  
"Was it usually better, or worse?"

And Stefan _shattered_.

The memories came bursting out,   
all of the _or worse_ moments when   
his father had pushed Stefan's head  
into his lap, or pulled off his pants   
and then _done things_ to him.

Stefan turned his face   
into Hefty's shoulder  
and just sobbed.

Hefty didn't tell him  
to be quiet or man up  
or stop making a scene.

The big man just held him  
until the storm finally faded.

"Back with me?" Hefty said.

Stefan gave a soggy nod,  
but didn't let go of him.

"Listen to the birds,"  
Hefty said. "Can you  
tell who's singing?"

Stefan listened.  
A clear whistle came  
floating from the trees.

"Cardinal," he said,   
and then, "Meadowlark."

"That's good," Hefty said.  
"Focus on the here and now."

"I'm trying," Stefan said,  
but wound up sniffling again.

Then Hefty handed him  
a water bottle. "Here,"  
he said. "Take a drink,  
wash your face, and  
clean off your glasses."

Stefan obeyed, too ashamed  
to argue or even look at him.

"I'm sorry," Hefty said. "You  
looked like you needed to talk,  
but I think I pushed a little too far.  
Let's wind it back and lighten up."

He talked about birds and  
the weather and summer  
slowly turning toward fall.

He pointed out someone  
rucketing along the part of  
the skatepark that had stairs.

"Nice firecracker," Stefan said,  
starting to come out of his funk.

"Yeah, she's pretty good --   
she was up on the rails earlier,"  
Hefty said, still watching.

"I like this skatepark,"  
Stefan said. "It's not huge,  
but it's big enough that a lot of  
people can use it at the same time,  
because of how it's laid out. You  
can't really make a loop of it, but  
there can be a dozen people on  
each of the pools plus the strip."

"It's an interesting little layout,"  
Hefty agreed. "I like coming here  
on slow days because then I   
can jog through the course   
without bothering anyone."

"Yeah, it's pretty dead today  
because everyone's over  
at the Bay," said Stefan.

"Nice and quiet," Hefty said.  
"So, just to wrap up, do you   
have anyone else to talk with?  
Classmates or other friends?"

"Well, I have some friends   
that I get together with, just  
messing around in the park,  
but we don't exactly talk about   
serious stuff," Stefan said.

"Embarrassed?" Hefty said,  
rubbing his back again.

"No, cultural differences,"  
Stefan explained.

"Ah," Hefty said. "That   
can make even simple things  
stickier. My beat partner is  
black, so I know how it goes."

"My friends aren't black,   
they're city Indians --   
their term, not mine,"  
Stefan replied.

"Do you think  
they'd sympathize?"  
Hefty asked him.

"Yeah, probably,"  
Stefan said. "We don't  
talk about that stuff, but ...  
it's statistically likely, given  
the context. Things haven't   
gone well for tribal folks."

"Then maybe you and   
your friends could help  
each other," Hefty said.  
"Sometimes that can pull   
you out of your own mess."

"I like helping people,"  
Stefan admitted. "It's why  
I thought about doing sports  
or exercise programs for a park  
or a community center. I don't  
do it just because it feels good."

"Then you're on the right track,"  
Hefty said. "You probably feel  
pretty raw right now. Do you  
have someone who'll notice  
if you feel worse, even at night?"

"Yeah, my roommate's in   
the pre-health track too, but  
he wants to be a sport nurse,"  
Stefan said, then grimaced.  
"Shit, J'aeson will freak if he  
sees me dinged up like this."

Hefty's eyebrows went up at that.  
"Your roommate's on a nursing track,  
but you don't trust him to take care of you?"

"We _just_ met at Orientation," Stefan said.  
I don't want to be that guy, you know? I've   
had people turn to me because I know   
first aid, but when that's the _only_ reason   
they ever talk to me ... it gets kinda old."

"I see," Hefty said. "That's thoughtful  
of you, then. You can reassure him that   
you've had everything wrapped properly.  
What about someone you've known longer?"

Stefan thought about it, then nodded. "Yeah,   
Nathan Chase. He's used to riding herd  
on his brother Logan, which is funny  
because Logan is older than him."

"Okay, so you've got people  
you can turn to later tonight   
if necessary," Hefty said. "I'll  
assume any pre-health student  
would respond appropriately if  
you keeled over all of a sudden."

"Yeah, probably," Stefan said.  
"J'aeson seems solid. I like him."

"That's good," Hefty said. "I'd  
like to arrange a meeting with you  
for tomorrow, if that's all right."

"What? Why?" Stefan said.

"Just to make sure that you're  
doing as well as can be  
expected," Hefty said.

"Don't you have to work?"  
Stefan said, staring at him.

"Yes, but this would count  
toward that -- nothing official  
between us, but part of my job  
keeping people safe," Hefty said.

"But I've got class!" Stefan protested.  
"I can't just skip it to go hang out."

"How about tomorrow evening?"  
Hefty said. "After work for me,  
and after class for you. Tell me  
your schedule and I'll work around it.  
We could get pizza or something."

Stefan wanted, suddenly and fiercely,  
to spend time with someone who  
actually cared about him.

He fumbled at his vidwatch,  
checking his schedule. "6 PM?"  
he said. "Pizza sounds good."

Hefty took out his smartphone  
and entered the time. "All set."

Then he fished in his pocket,  
wrote something on a card,  
and handed it to Stefan.

"That's got my badge number  
in case you need to reach me at   
work, and my phone number for  
other times," Hefty said. "If you  
feel like punching a wall, or jumping  
off a vert in shorts, or hurting yourself  
any other way ... please, call me  
first. Any time of day or night."

Stefan flicked a fingertip  
against the corner of the card.

The counselor at the college clinic  
had fobbed him off with the number  
for a crisis line, same as usual.

Nobody had ever invited Stefan  
to call and maybe wake him up   
_in the middle of the night_.

When he might have  
to work the next day.

This was new, and weird,  
and it made Stefan's stomach  
flip over, but he couldn't seem  
to let go of that little card.

He thought about having  
something to do when he felt   
like his head was going to explode,  
 _other than_ jumping on a skateboard  
and tricking around until he crashed.

"Okay," he said, licking his lips. "I'll call."

"Thank you," Hefty said, and sounded  
like he meant it. "Will you let me  
drive you back to your place?  
I sure wouldn't want to ride  
a bus in the shape you're in."

Stefan gave a rueful chuckle.  
"Yeah, the bus would suck,"  
he said. "I'll take you up on that,  
just let me find my backpack."

He'd forgotten about it earlier,  
in all the chaos. Looking up,  
he saw it still nestled beside  
the extension of the vert.

When he stood up, though,  
his bruised muscles protested.

"I've got you," Hefty said,  
wrapping an arm around him.

This time, Stefan didn't even  
try to walk without support.

When they got to the other side  
of the pool, Hefty leaned down  
to snag Stefan's bag, saying,  
"How about I carry this for you."

"Yeah, thanks," Stefan said,  
glad it wasn't weighing on  
his tenderized body. "Thanks."

"It's no trouble at all," Hefty said.  
"I'm just happy that I could help."

Stefan was starting to believe that.

**Author's Note:**

> The notes are long long, so see the original Dreamwidth posts for [character](https://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/12661693.html), [setting](https://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/12661774.html), and [content](https://ysabetwordsmith.dreamwidth.org/12662089.html) notes.


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